OyChicago blog

I’m back again, for
the third year in a row, opening up my Kindle to share with all of you the best
of what I’ve read this year.

There is something to
be said about always being able to access the book you’re reading through an
app on your phone or iPad, knowing that you can visit another world whenever
and wherever you choose. These are the books that helped me pass the endless
hours commuting on the El, the minutes on the treadmill and those nights when I
couldn’t sleep. These are the stories that kept me company on lunch breaks,
plane rides and relaxing Sunday afternoons.

Looking back, despite
binge-watching several shows on Netflix and devoting some commuting time to
listening to the Serial podcast, I actually read a lot of really quality stuff
this year. Much like my past lists, not all of these books came out in 2014 and
they aren’t necessarily the best books of the year—though a few of them might
make those lists. These are, however, the books I enjoyed reading the most and
hope you will too. So, without further ado, here’s what’s on my Kindle from
2014:

We are Water by
Wally LambI was excited to learn that Wally Lamb
(author of I Know This Much Is True
and She’s Come Undone, among others)
had a new novel coming out at the end of 2013, so this was the first book I read
this past year. It’s a long one, but stick with it until the end. It tells the story
of one modern family from the perspectives and voices of the various
characters. The story is compelling, complex, suspenseful and emotional and the
characters are rich and real.

Me Before You by
Jojo Moyes This book got a lot of buzz this year,
and I totally understand why. Once you start reading, it’s impossible to put
down this somewhat heartbreaking love story that takes you on an emotional
rollercoaster. I also read Jojo Moyes’ new book this year, One Plus One, which was a
little bit slower at first, but one I’m glad I kept reading.

The Rosie Project by
Graeme SimsionSo this book was recommended to me by a
coworker and I’m pretty sure it was my favorite read of the year. This is the
story of a genetics professor who is searching for the perfect wife. It’s a
quirky, smart and endearing story and I just loved it. The sequel, The
Rosie Effect, came out yesterday, and I cannot wait to read it.

Garlic and Sapphires: The Secret Life
of a Critic in Disguise by Ruth ReichlThis one was also recommended to me by
that same coworker and was another great read. In this memoir, Ruth Reichl
chronicles her time as restaurant critic for The New York Times, when she would often visit the restaurants she
was reviewing in disguise, so as to not be recognized or get preferential
treatment. It’s entertaining and will make you laugh and hungry all at once.
Reichl has several other memoirs that I haven’t gotten to yet but look forward
to reading.

All Fall Down by
Jennifer WeinerI have read all of Jennifer Weiner’s
books (and even interviewed her back in 2009) so as soon as her newest came out
this summer, I downloaded it and got reading. This one tackles a suburban mom’s
struggle with addiction. It’s a little different and slightly darker than some
of Jennifer Weiner’s other books, but as always, she’s created a compelling,
engaging story.

What Alice Forgot by
Liane MoriartyAs I celebrated the big 3-0 this year,
the plot line of this book intrigued me—a 29-year-old happily married woman who
suddenly wakes up at the gym to discover she is 39, divorced and her life has
not turned out as she’d hoped. There is just something about the style of
Australian author Liane Moriarty’s writing that really hooks you. This was the
first of her books that I read, but I went on to literally read them all: The
Husband’s Secret and Big Little Lieswere my favorites,
but I also enjoyed Three Wishes, The Hypnotist’s
Love Story and The
Last Anniversary. I was honestly bummed when I finished the last one.

Not That Kind of Girl by
Lena DunhamThis is a collection of personal essays
by the creator, producer and star of HBO’s Girls.
In true Dunham style, she shares stories from her childhood, her
coming-of-age moments and her arrival onto the Hollywood scene. If you like Girls or are intrigued by Dunham, I
think you’ll find this series of stories about growing up brutally honest and somewhat
relatable.

This is Where I Leave You by
Jonathan TropperThe movie trailers inspired me (though
I haven’t yet seen the movie) to read this novel about a family coming together
for the first time in years, to sit shiva after the death of their father. This
book is just really good—it’s a rich, emotional, sometimes vulgar story and I
was sad to leave the characters when I got to the last page.

Orange is the New Black: My Year in a Women’s Prison by Piper KermanAs a fan of the Netflix original series Orange is the New
Black, I jumped at the chance to interview Piper Kerman before her visit to
Chicago next month. I wanted to learn more about the real story of the woman
whose experiences and bestselling memoir of the same name inspired the show.
Before I spoke to her, I read her book, which recounts the year (2004-2005) she
spent in the Danbury Correctional Facility for a crime she had committed 10
years prior. If you watch the show, you owe it to yourself to read Kerman’s
memoir which is just as engaging, but not quite as extreme as the show. And you’ll
find the inspiration for many of your favorite characters and plotlines are
based in reality.

So, what
did I miss? And what should be on this list for 2015? Share your book
recommendations in the comments below. Happy reading!

I am going to tell you the best time to start working on your goals and
it’s not “After New Year’s.” Around the holidays people are big on that
comment, especially with diet and exercise. People often set goals/resolutions
in the New Year; it’s the perfect time to achieve your dreams – or is it?

Whether you are a goal setter or simply want to get in better shape,
start right now. Don’t wait for 2015,
or your new job, or your new house ... excuses are easy for all of us,
especially with eating sugary goodness during the holidays.

During the holidays, I made a ridiculously unhealthy delicious sugar
bomb and ate a tiny piece, enjoying every single minute of it. Does that mean
I’m waiting for next year to eat healthy? Of course not. Most nights there’s no
dessert on my table, but occasionally I indulge. Part of being healthy is
enjoying desserts sometimes, so you never get to that binging point.

With 2015 only a few days away, many of you might think I’m crazy. Why
would anyone start with a new goal on Dec. 30? The simplest answer is most
people give up on their goals (usually mid-February) so why not start early?
Make a lifestyle change right now, because this is what you really want. Don’t
deprive yourself of a fat steak, salty frites, and the industry standard lava
cake (which I also bake), just enjoy small portions of each. Add a green
vegetable to the plate that’s not deep fried. Since you cannot find a cab on
New Year’s find a place in safe walking distance.

Another key to success is small steps. I have one client that gave up
all sweets for a year, and to my surprise he did it. I have numerous clients make
bold statements like that. Out of hundreds of clients attempting crazy
diets/goals the ones that make it start with small changes:

- No more daily trips to the candy bowl- Refill their water bottle at least twice a day- Join Weight Watchers- Try a new fitness class- Cook more and brown bag their lunch- Learn to share treats

If your goal is to be healthier, start right now with a quick trip to
the water cooler, and if no one is looking, maybe add 10 squats.

Have
you ever noticed that no one seems particularly eager for the arrival of their
22nd birthday? That there are no Hallmark cards for people between the ages of 21
and 25, and that no one when asked responds, “Heck, yeah man! Can’t wait for
the big two-two!”

That’s because,
up until age 22, or sometimes even later, you spend your whole life preparing
for the next school year — the next paper to write, the next class to take — but
once they hand you that weird piece of paper with your name on it, that’s kind
of it. You either go to grad school or … you know … just figure it out.

And
unless you have money or a plan — which you probably don’t, since you just
spent every moment (and saved penny) of the last four years earning the degree
now mounted like a deer’s head your wall — you have no choice but to pack up
your college experiences and brave the infamous “real world.”

And by
“real world,” I mean your parents’ house. You suck it up and move back in with
your parents.

As you
re-enter your childhood bedroom, it seems significantly smaller and – somehow –
pinker than the last time you were home for winter break.

Horrified,
you stare at the mountain of stuffed animals on your bed and think to yourself,
did I really earn a bachelor’s degree while hoarding hundreds of Beanie Babies
on the other side of the state? Can they revoke my degree for that?

Stuck
in this foreign/familiar space, you feel yourself losing touch with the
independent college-self you were a few weeks ago. Slamming doors and arguments
over who gets the car slowly but surely make their way back into your daily
routine.

Without
homework to avoid, laundry becomes an actual chore. The hamper feels a little
heavier without the stolen quarters from your roommate jingling on top. And
once you run out of your counter-culture hippy detergent and go back to using
Tide, it seems like your years of freedom were for naught.

Beyond
the city limits of your college town, all the rules are different. Suddenly,
your school-town jargon becomes a foreign language, one that Rosetta Stone
doesn’t have a box set for, and worse still, you encounter people who refuse to
understand the nuances of your (VERY SOPHISTICATED) college culture.

So what
do you do without your college identity there to define you?

Well,
for a while, you wait. Just like Dr. Seuss promised you would. But, instead of
waiting for a bus to come, or a plane to go, or the mail to come, you wait to
grow restless. Restless for the independence you just had a few weeks ago and
become compelled to look for it again.

Then
you apply. Apply for jobs you don’t want, and some that you do. Apply for
internships and overseas voyages and organic farming licenses. You find out
that you’re underqualified for the Peace Corps, which you had always counted on
as your backup plan.

You
take up running and volunteering, cooking and drinking, singing and,
ultimately, knitting – even though you swore after a particularly traumatic
project to never do that again.

Then,
almost without being aware, you start your own business, the kind with actual clients.
Business cards that have your name on them create a bulge in your wallet and
cover every square inch of your desk because, at the time, 500 seemed like a
totally reasonable number to order.

People
begin to reach out to you, asking for a recommendation, a thought, for a moment
of your time. You pretend less and less to know what you are doing and find more
and more that you know what to do.

Coffee transitions
from a noun into a verb, and it is often the reason you take the train downtown
to meet impressive individuals in their impressive corporate offices, only to
discover that, in fact, they are also impressed by you.

And you
keep pressing forward, hoping that in one of these places, a confident,
accomplished individual from the crowd will turn around, and you will look
yourself in the face.

On the surface, it would
seem as though my mom and Silvia have very little in common. My mother is a
Soviet refugee living in the sleepy suburbs of Chicago; Silvia is Argentinian,
from the heart of Buenos Aires. When we have guests over for dinner, my mom
prepares organic asparagus and free-range salmon. Silvia cooks blood sausage,
the cow innards positively teeming out of the juicy meat wrapping.

If they were to sit
across from each other at this fictitious dinner table, Silvia and my mother
would not have a single language in common, yet, strangely enough, there is no
doubt in my mind that they would become instant friends. For all their
differences, my mom and Silvia have one very important thing in common: they
are passionately, unyieldingly, wholeheartedly Jewish mothers.

There’s something about
Jewish mothers that’s almost a universal quality, a sort of bond between those
who grew up under the warm and sheltered wing of such a parent. That isn’t to say
that non-Jewish mothers aren’t as loving, because of course they are, but
Jewish mothers are somehow of a different stripe, in ways that can only be
described in anecdotes.

Demian and I first
bonded talking about our mothers. We already had a few similarities, but this
was an instant click – Silvia and my mom had astounding qualities in common. For instance, both of our mothers
worry intensely if we don’t wear sunscreen. There have been many a time when
Demian and I – on separate occasions and in different hemispheres – have insisted
that we don’t need sunscreen before going out, only to later find a bottle
sneakily slipped into our bags.

Once, when he was just a
baby, Silvia needed to take Demian to the doctor. It was winter in Buenos
Aires, which drops down to a chilly 30 or 40 degrees on a cooler day.
Naturally, Silvia worried that her newborn son might get cold. So she dressed
him in a thick sweater and socks; then added another sweater, just to be safe;
and a coat; and a scarf; and another layer of socks.

By the time they reached
the doctor’s office, baby Demian was sweating profusely and, once the winter
layers were peeled away, they discovered a full-body, heat-induced rash. The
doctor openly gaped at Silvia. Demian’s mother literally almost loved him to
death.

When I left for college
as a senior, my own mother suddenly began to suspect that I didn’t have a fall
coat. No matter how many times I painstakingly tried to convince her that I
did, in fact, have a coat, she was unwavering. She planned an emergency trip up
to Madison, and within five hours, I had not one, not two, but seven coats laid out on display on my
bed.

My aunt Larissa, who is
the Israeli duplicate of my own mom, is no stranger to Jewish motherhood. Like
my mom, she has two children whom she cherishes and, in typical fashion, spends
a good deal of time worrying about. Are they warm? Are they eating well?

One time, her 15-year-old
daughter asked to skip school so that she could spend the day at the beach with
me.

“Done,” was the
immediate response. We spent the entire Wednesday on the beach.

Most of my friends are
baffled by this story, but when I told my mom, she nodded vigorously and
insisted, “There’s a woman who has her priorities in order!” She then looked
pointedly at me. “You know, it wouldn’t be so bad if you ate dinner at home
every once in a while, too.”

As children of
like-minded mothers, Demian, my cousin and I also share a handful of
similarities. We all roll our eyes when we glimpse a bottle of sunblock
sticking out of the sides of our bags. We make promises to eat dinner at home
only to back out last minute. As aggravating as our mothers may seem, the truth
is that we’re aggravating them all the more.

As frustrated as I get when having to insist that,
for instance, I wouldn’t like a glass of juice, for the 12th time (even though
yes I know the health benefits and the long-term gains from drinking organic
juice), I also know that there will never be anybody as deeply invested in my
well-being as my mother. And, in case I ever forget, I can always count on my
seven coats to remind me.

I've
been practicing yoga for about eight years; you would think I would be a full-fledged
master by now. However, a great yoga practice is when I can touch my toes.

To
be honest, I’m not consistent when it comes to any form of physical exercise.
It’s a “one step forward, two steps back” kind of relationship. I’ll go to yoga
Monday through Friday for three weeks, and then I’ll take a hiatus for two
months. Although this relationship clearly can’t be good for my physical
health, the lessons I’ve taken away from my yoga practice have helped me
through many emotional crises. I also realized how closely related my yoga
practice is to my religion.

Being
present

This
is the root of yoga. At the end of every yoga practice is the savasana pose, or
corpse pose, when you lie down on your back for a few minutes and meditate.
It’s considered one of the most difficult poses because your mind can easily
wander out of the present moment. Through savasana pose, I’ve learned that
being present gives you clarity that can’t be achieved from a multi-tasking
mind. Savasana reminds me of the meditations I read in the machzor during the High Holidays at synagogue. Within the
meditations are stories about rabbis who teach life lessons to those in need of
guidance. I’ve learned from my yoga practice and the machzor that you learn unexpected lessons that alter your life for
the better when you’re present.

Gratitude

Yoga
and Judaism teach us to be thankful for our blessings and misfortunes. It’s
easy for us to be grateful for the good in our lives, but it’s much more
difficult to be grateful for the setbacks. However, within the setbacks are
lessons to be learned and opportunities to reinvent ourselves.

Acceptance

In
almost every yoga class, you’ll find a yogi huffing and puffing while in pain
because they’re pushing their body’s limitations. Pain is the antonym of yoga.
Yoga is about accepting what your body can and can’t do. By accepting your
body’s limitations in yoga, overtime, you’ll advance to more complicated poses.
By accepting myself in my yoga practice, I was able to accept other’s in their
entirety outside of yoga. My parents, however, were a whole other battle. I
used to take all my frustrations out on them, which was ironic because the
fifth of the Ten Commandments is to honor one’s parents. I realized I was the
reason my relationship with my parents was sour, so I decided to implement the
fifth commandment in my life. Now, the relationship I have with my parents is
stronger than it’s ever been.

It’s
true: I’m very inconsistent when it comes to my yoga practice and the only time
I can guarantee I’ll be attending synagogue is during the High Holidays. But,
by being present in just one yoga class and Rosh Hashanah or Yom Kippur
service, I’m learning valuable lessons on how to become my best possible self.
All I had to do was show up.

Chanukah is just about over; last night my
family lit our seventh flames and, as is our custom, I sat and watched them for
a few minutes and let my mind wonder. After a brief mental jog around what
exactly will happen when Agents of SHIELD
starts up again in March, my mind sort of settled on memories. We all have
them: the good ones and the bad ones. Of course, the most powerful ones are
those that bring up emotions and take us back to that moment.

This Chanukah, I experienced three moments
connected to deep, powerful memories.

The first involves cookies. Yeah, cookies!
Every year we wait and wait for my wife’s Chanukah cookies. It’s a recipe that
is unveiled only once every 12 months (like a comet for your taste buds). Our
15-year-old son has been helping my wife make them since he could stand. It’s
sort of their thing and every year he jumps in and rolls the dough, uses the
cookie-cutters, and sprinkles the colored sugar. Their tradition never started
as a platform to build memories, but that is what it has become and it’s the
coolest.

I am probably the only one that still owns
his childhood “dreidel collection.” I took some with me when I went to college,
spent two years in Israel, went back to New York City, got married … you get
the idea. My brother visited us recently and he was shocked to see that among
the dreidels my kids were playing with was one from my old collection. It triggered
a few memories for him, as it does for me. My kids, after years of spinning,
know that my old dreidel really does spin better than theirs.

Lastly, I’ll open up (it’s easy when you are
typing and not talking) about a personal memory. My father, of blessed memory,
died five years ago. About once every 6-8 weeks I will stop by a Walgreens and make
my way to the men’s fragrance section. I will glance up and down the aisle to
make sure no one is around and grab a bottle of Brut cologne off the shelf. I
take a quick smell, put the bottle back and leave. What can I say? My dad was a
Brut man.

Our baby boy, Johnny, turned six months a few weeks ago,
and a few days later our first resource from PJ Library
arrived in the mail. I furiously tore open the package and was excited to find Dream with Me, a CD compilation
of lullabies. Perfect, I thought, this will be great to play when we need to
get the little one to sleep.

From what I gather, Johnny’s bedtime ritual is pretty
typical: change diaper, wrestle to put on PJs, nurse on the couch while reading
stories and singing lullabies before drifting off to sleep. There are always
three lullabies that make the evening lineup:

“You
Are My Sunshine,”
the song Rose would sing to him while she was pregnant; “The
Circle Game," the song her
mother sang to her as a child; and “Lilah Tov,” (“goodnight,” in Hebrew) a song
my wife made up to whisk him off to sleep.

Even as I write this post, I start to choke up, thinking
about the beauty and innocence of this experience that at least one of us has
shared with our son nearly every night of his life. Sometimes, I watch him
really closely, hoping to catch the exact moment he drifts off to sleep. It is
incredibly touching how he falls away so effortlessly and peacefully. This is
one of those moments when the emotional side of parenthood comes up from deep
inside of you and permeates the entire room. I once walked into the nursery to
find my wife singing to him while he quietly lied in her arms. I sat down on
the couch and gently put my hand on her knee and tears began streaming down
both of our faces.

After we received the Dream
with Me CD, I grabbed it on the way to the car that afternoon for a
preview. With the baby securely buckled in the back seat, I thought to myself that
this would be a good test. The first words of the first song were “Lilah Tov.”
In an instant, the sounds and sights of traffic all around me disappeared. For
a split second, I was pulled out of the car and into the nursery at night,
putting our baby to sleep. It wasn’t long enough to completely distract me from
the road, but just long enough to summon those familiar tears.

I have heard that there is a sociological and biological
reaction to fatherhood that helps bring out a man’s softer, more sensitive side
and increases his commitment to the family. Consider this father a committed pile
of mush.

A few weeks ago, my fiancé, Adam, and I
went on a vacation to our first all-inclusive Mexican resort – a place called
Secrets Capri in Riviera Maya. With five days and nothing to do but relax and
enjoy the sun (and, sadly, some rain), we came back feeling refreshed,
reinvigorated, and tan – or, let’s be honest, slightly less ghost-colored.

As a Jewish professional, though, you
can never really take a vacation.
Every aspect of our resort made me think of my job as a Jewish communal
professional. This time, I was a guest at a resort in a new country feeling
very welcomed; most of the time, I’m busy welcoming guests to our community and
folding all the towel art.

So, dear friends, I present you with
the list of what we can learn from my Mexican vacation.

1. Don’t make me feel lost

We booked our transfer from the Cancun
airport to our resort through the same company as our overnight stay, and they
told us to look for the people in the bright floral shirts. They greeted us as
we walked out of the terminal, and sent us to exactly the right place. We never
felt lost and we didn’t have to ask directions from someone selling homemade
jewelry – though that sure would have been interesting!

When a newcomer comes to a Jewish
event, would he know where to go? Is there a greeter at the door? Someone with
a name tag who makes sure he’s not lost?

2. Create an over-the-top first impression

When our van pulled into the resort, we
were greeted with friendly faces, cold towels, water bottles and champagne. And
if you walked in a few more feet, there were apples and chocolate chip cookies.
Wow! I would have never thought to ask for a cold towel, but I guess after a
long flight and a long van ride, it was nice to be able to wash my hands in the
humid weather. Instead of beginning our vacation dirty, hungry and thirsty, the
resort showed us right away that they care about us and want us to be
comfortable.

In the Jewish community, what would
someone see when they first walk in to your event? Is there a pitcher of water
and maybe even a bowl of apples near the entrance? Some congregations offer an oneg (reception) before worship
services – it sure puts people in a good mood and gets them ready to focus on
prayer and song when they have a full belly.

3. Offer
something for everyone

The list of activities offered at our
resort was extensive – water aerobics, a bags / cornhole competition,
Pilates, dance lessons, Spanish lessons, towel art, watching Monday Night
Football, different kinds of movies, and even a daily feeding of the lobby
turtles. There seemed to be something for everyone.

Do our Jewish organizations offer a
wide range of activities, or are we catering too much to one group or another?
Do we assess our clientele and build programs based on their needs – or do we
just offer what WE think they need?

4. Personal
invitations

I probably would not have gone to water
aerobics on my own. The water was cold, it seemed silly, I didn’t know anyone,
I was scared, and somehow I couldn’t convince Adam to go with me. But Hector,
one of the entertainment staff members and the leader of the class, went around
to every person lounging around the pool and asked if they would be coming to
the class. With a personal invitation, these people – myself included – felt a
bit more comfortable throwing a bookmark in their book and dipping their toes in
the water.

Just because we offer a spectacular,
meaningful, artsy, delicious, Jewish-tastic program, it doesn’t mean people
will come. We have to ask people to come. Make them feel welcome. Invite
them, help them out of their chair, and walk with them to the event. And
chances are, these potential Jewish communal newcomers, like silly-looking Lia
in water aerobics, will actually enjoy the event and maybe even come back the
next time.

5. Remember
details.

My mom likes to tell this story of the
one time our family went on a cruise – a Disney cruise when I was in
kindergarten. As soon as we walked in the dining room, our waiter would
immediately bring me chocolate milk and get me plain buttered noodles with no
parsley. My tastes have evolved a bit since then, so my food desires in
Mexico weren’t as complicated, but it’s nice to know that people remember
things about you. We started recognizing the resort staff and they recognized
us; and one particular hostess at the breakfast cafe knew that when Adam walked
into brunch, he’d probably ask for a waffle.

How many times do I hear Jewish
communal professionals – myself included – say that they have bad memories and
have a hard time remembering names? It’s just unacceptable. We need to go out
of our way to train our brains to be able to remember names and facts. Who in
your community is gluten-free? Whose mother just had surgery? Who just gained a
new grandson? If your Jewish organization is anything like my workplace, most
of this information is readily available. Read the emails, read the
newsletters, ask questions, and even eavesdrop a bit on the hallway
conversations. Show that you remember who your constituents are and they will
notice.

We can’t spend our whole lives as
guests in an all-inclusive resort in the warm, humid air, but maybe we can take
these experiences – and the ones you witness in your own life at the grocery
store, the movie theater, and your client’s office building – to make our
community stronger, warmer, and more welcoming.

All
I can think about are New Year’s resolutions as we speed into 2015. It’s
probably because I’m so terrible at them.

I
find rules, restrictions and absolutes to be difficult to manage. When I hear
the word resolution, all I can think about is what I’m not going to be able to
do. Then, like clockwork, I obsess about what I can’t have while stress eating
everything in my apartment. All of these feelings can only lead to one thing:
doing exactly what I resolved I would definitely not do. It’s a vicious cycle,
and I repeat it every year.

I
know I’m not the only person who gets into this trap. I start out with high
hopes. I do a little inventory of myself and then decide that real changes must
take place. Then comes my list. I will train for a marathon. I will read Moby Dick. I will not have ice cream for
dinner. These resolutions aren’t so bad, but in all honesty, I’m not likely to
do any of those things very well.

That’s
the problem with resolutions. It’s not that the bar is set too high, it’s that
the resolutions, it least in my mind, are too absolute. What if instead of
giving yourself strict edicts for the coming year, you cut yourself a little
slack? I’m not sure that I have the time it takes to train for a marathon, but
what if I try anyway? Reading Moby Dick
sounds awful, but I don’t have to complete the whole book in one afternoon. Not
eating ice cream for dinner doesn’t mean that I can’t have ice cream, it means
that I try to remain mindful of what I’m eating.

Isn’t
it better to work at something? Perhaps failing at a New Year’s resolution is
part of the process. Maybe it’s better to be a bad marathoner who tries than to
be someone who gives up and isn’t running at all. Could it be that all of those
past resolution failures were just part of the deal?

This
year, I’m going to give myself a few New Year’s resolutions and I’m going to
try to give myself the space to achieve them. Whatever that means. Just don’t
laugh in my face when I’m running around calling myself a vegan. I’m never
going to be a vegan, but maybe I can be a bad vegan? It’s better than nothing.

The
Chicago Cubs introduced their new big money ace Jon Lester yesterday, and while
the press conference itself wasn't particularly entertaining – especially
compared to the quirk and quotability of the Joe Maddon presser just a few
weeks ago – its significance is apparent. The signing of Lester, along with the
hiring of new manager Maddon, is a clear message to Cubs fans that the era of
bottoming out is over and the era of winning is ready to begin.

In
fact, Lester's contract quieted any speculation that the Cubs either didn't
have the money Theo Epstein needed, or were hesitant to spend. His contract,
$155 million over six years, is the largest multi-year contract in the history
of Chicago sports.

So
the big question is, is Lester really worth it?

Yes.
He's a proven ace who can be the head of a championship pitching rotation. He’s
a lefty with the mechanics built for a long career and just the kind of
experience a young Cubs team needs. He has won two World Series, both with the
Red Sox, and is a three-time all-star. He provides the kind of stability on the
mound the Cubs have so badly needed, which will also take some of the pressure
off their young bats every fifth game while they continue to grow.

But
to me, more than what Lester brings to the field, this signing is the Cubs
brass sending a loud message to the fan base that this Cubs team is ready to
win – now. Both Lester and Maddon discussed it at both of their press
conferences, as did Epstein. Lester is by no means young. Entering his tenth
season, this signing was much more about the present than it was about the
future.

Some
have compared this deal to the one the Cubs gave Alfonso Soriano in 2006, an
eight-year, $136 million contract. But the biggest difference to me is that
when they signed Soriano, the Cubs were not focusing any energy on their farm
system. There wasn't a young bat waiting in the wings preparing to take over
once Soriano began his decline, which also started way sooner than the Cubs predicted.
But this is a new era, and while Lester is helping the Cubs win now, he is also
allowing youngsters like Kyle Hendricks and CJ Edwards develop at their own
pace.

This
is the first time in almost a decade that I've been truly excited for baseball
season. Regular season baseball games on the North Side will actually matter in
2015. Since Theo Epstein was hired back in 2011, the Cubs have preached patience.
And I don't care what Back to the Future
II says, I am not expecting a World Series next year. But now we can
finally start to see the fruits of our collected suffering over the last seven
years.

As
long as we remember to continue tempering our expectations and understand that
the growing pains are still far from over, we are in store for an extremely
entertaining baseball season - words that I'm hoping to become more and more
comfortable using in reference to the Cubs for many years to come.

Have you ever been an accidental spy? There
you were, just minding your own business when suddenly, people around you start
talking about you – your people – without knowing you are “one of them?”

I had been invited to a fundraising luncheon
through a friend, who had been invited by a friend of hers. Neither of us knew much
about the organization we were breaking bread with, but we went in the good
Jewish spirit of “either way, we’ll get to eat.”

We arrived to an explosion of elaborate decorations
and live music. This was quite the shindig for the middle of the afternoon. The
people were friendly, the check-in folks were very organized and we easily
found our assigned seats boasting fancy tableware. I was immediately offered
wine and I started to feel a little bit special having such an unexpected,
swanky experience.

As the room filled with folks dressed in
their Sunday best, a young man approached the microphone and began singing
“Amazing Grace.” He was a very handsome kid and his voice was absolutely
beautiful. While others around me teared up with sentiment, I was thinking to
myself, “he must get all the girls,” while furiously texting my husband under
the table that along with bagpipes, someone must
sing “Amazing Grace” at my funeral.

When I looked up our singer had been replaced
by a man of the cloth. Suddenly, we were saying Grace. The entire room was a
sea of bowed heads. We were the only Jews! I looked nervously at my friend and
then at my hands that were clenching my telephone. I took a deep breath. Realistically,
no one was looking at me and no flashing “she’s a Jew” arrow was pointing at my
head. So I waited it out, head bent respectfully toward my lap.

The main speaker followed – a plucky, well-spoken
and clearly passionate person. In the speech, however, when giving examples of
the hurdles that had been jumped for the mission of the organization to be
realized, there were references to Jewish people and Jewish practices – and
they were not positive. We were portrayed as a sexist people who don’t take
women in business seriously without a man’s hand and that when the rent is due
with a Jew, you better pay it or end up on the street. We were also perceived
as self-congratulatory, proclaiming, “no one will outdo the Jews!” in our
generosity.

I became lightheaded. My lunch began to
bubble up in my throat. What was this person talking about? Why was this a part
of the story? If the speaker knew there were Jews in the mix, would the speech
have been different? In a lucky coincidence, we had already planned to leave
early. I was sweating as I pulled on my coat.

I felt faint in the parking lot. When I got
into the car I collapsed into the seat, my heart heavy with a combination of
shock and sadness. How? How could someone say these things? When I got home my
hands were a blur on the keyboard. I wrote what I considered to be a very
impassioned email that concluded with:

“…You have hurt, offended and saddened me. In
a world that has so many hurts to heal, it is beyond disappointing that you
used your time with a captive audience to fan the flames of division and anti-Semitism.”

I received an almost immediate response. It
was a combination of authentic shock and remorse. The speaker genuinely seemed
to have no idea that what had been said could have been heard or interpreted
the way it had been in my ears. I received a sincere and authentic apology, and
the speaker said they would never, ever,
use those words again as the intention was never to hurt or offend anyone. They
concluded by saying the Jewish people are their brothers and sisters and
thanked me for my courage in coming forward with my experience.

Call it courage, but I could not be silent on
this one, nor do I believe we should we ever be silent.

We have the luxury of hiding our Jewishness –
being able to conveniently tuck in our Chai necklaces, not reveal our last names,
or be vague around what kind of G-d we believe in. But the times when we feel
most inclined to hide, those are exactly the times that we should proclaim our
presence. We cannot take the easy road as a minority and camouflage ourselves
amongst other white folk. We ARE a
minority. We need to take courage in our Judaism and the responsibility to
educate those who for whatever reason don’t know the power of their words to
hurt, however unintentional they may be. We must stand with other minorities
that are unable to “hide” in a crowd. No one should suffer in silence. We
should thrive in our collective humanity to ensure “never again” for us and for
all people.

Parshat Vayeshev is the story of Joseph, and
whenever I think of Joseph, I think of his amazing technicolor coat given to
him by his father, Jacob. This very special coat was a sign of greatness.

This concept of technicolor equaling greatness isn’t
something that we should just strive for in our wardrobe, but also on our
plates. Food comes in all forms of colors, and each color has a specific
benefit that can help prevent disease, keep us strong, and assist us in staying
healthy.

According to Chinese
medicine, red foods such as goji berries help build
blood. Tomatoes, which are rich in lycopene, are good for our heart and blood.
Also, red foods contain a phytochemical called anthocyanins, which is an
antioxidant that helps control blood pressure and protects against diabetes.
Other red foods such
as cranberries help fight
urinary tract infections, and as you already know “an apple a day can keep the doctor away.”

Eating a diet rich in orange and yellow foods is good for the whole body. Oranges,
lemons, and other citrus fruits have vitamin C. Vitamin C is said to prevent
colds, flus, and scurvy. Other orange foods such as carrots, and yellow foods such as squash, contain beta-carotene
which may prevent cancer and protect our eyes.

However, there are other nutrients in yellow foods, for example bananas are
packed with potassium, which helps eliminate cramping. In general, yellow foods are also a good
source of antioxidants and help maintain healthy skin and teeth.

From a young age we were
all told to eat our greens, and in reality, everyone should. Foods like broccoli may
reduce the risk of cancer, arthritis, and aging. Leafy green vegetables are
actually a much better source of calcium than any dairy product. Kale, chard
and other leafy greens are chock full of folate, fiber, and antioxidants. If we
eat more green foods, we might not have to fortify our food anymore, because green
vegetables have all the vitamins we need.

The blue and purple colors
in foods are formed by anthocyanins, an antioxidant that fights
inflammation and even cancer. Blue and
purple foods also help prevent age related memory loss, are good for the heart,
protect the gums, eyes, and urinary tract. Blue foods such as blueberries can help fight the “blues” because they
give your brain the boost it needs for the week.

Purple foods such as cabbage are
loaded with vitamins A, C, and K. Also, elderberries can be applied to the skin
to help cure wounds, or can be eaten for respiratory
health (please do not eat any uncooked or unripe
elderberries). Eating foods that are blue and purple will not only make your
plate pretty, but they can also make it more
nutritious and delicious.

Jacob gave Joseph a technicolor coat because Joseph was truly special and destined for greatness. Let’s try to keep this in mind the next time you are
thinking about what to eat. Try to imagine the greatness of Joseph’s
technicolor coat, and make sure your plate is as colorful as his coat, because remember, what is on
your plate is destined for your stomach and body. The more colorful your meals
are the better; just make sure it is from natural colors and not dyes or
preservatives.

If you’re like me, you probably get a ton of emails and countless
mailed letters asking you to donate or to give to an organization. Many of them
come around this time of the year, when the holiday spirit and the spirit of
giving seem to collide in a frenzy of toys, appliances, gadgets and monetary
donations. We hear the high-pitched jingles of the Salvation Army’s bell as we
walk past our nearest grocer or pharmacist, or encounter people on street
corners asking for spare change for organizations such as Misericordia or the
Boys and Girls Club. Most of us do not ask for these seasonal solicitations,
and probably do not give many of these a second thought.

Personally, I’ve collected close to 60 separate pieces of mail
since Thanksgiving, and they still keep coming and probably won’t stop until
the New Year. How do you not feel overwhelmed or lost among all the choices and
solicitations for your donations? How do you choose which organizations to
donate to or volunteer time?

The topic of tzedakah
and its connection to the holiday shopping and gift-giving season really make
me think more carefully about what it means to me. More particularly, it makes
me wonder about how I can give as a Jewish person and how I can better
understand how my decisions for tzedakah
help shape the world around me and impact other people’s lives. I didn’t just
want to give to a popular charity or organization, and I didn’t want to just
write checks and click “Donate Now” on a website. I wanted to search for
something a little more, and what I found surprised even myself.

Believe it or not, it all started with a group of sixth graders ...

Last year, my sixth grade religious school class had a special
lesson on tzedakah organized and run
by the American Jewish World Service. It was
part of a series of lectures preparing the students for their bar or bat mitzvah.
Included in the morning’s activities was a very interesting exercise that
involved a little Torah study. The students and their parents were asked to
look at eight different charity scenarios and decide how high or low that act
of charity ranks on Maimonides’
Eight Degrees of Tzedakah.

The students were given eight slips of paper, one corresponding
to each degree of tzedakah, and then
asked to rank them to see how it matches up with Maimonides’ own list. Most of
the groups were able to get the highest and lowest degrees, but there was some
disagreement over the middle degrees. This was the first time that many of the
students saw this list and didn’t even know that one could rank charity into
different degrees. Isn’t all charity the
same? Why does one type of giving get a higher rank than others? Isn’t all
charity and giving a good thing? Why should we compare how we choose to give?

I was wondering the same questions myself. Personally, I hadn’t
really given much thought to my own feelings and decisions on tzedakah. Up until I graduated college,
my parents would donate around this time each year and make donations on behalf
of me and my siblings. Since then, we have all been responsible and accountable
for our own charitable actions: my brother found UJA-Jewish Federation and
AIPAC in New York and discovered his passion for Jewish volunteer work and
philanthropy. My sister, through her medical school program, worked at a
facility that assisted abuse victims and their children, and would spend her
summer days playing with the children instead of opting to go to the beach or
on a road trip. For me, I’ve been involved with JUF attending Israel Solidarity
Day and YLD events and engaging in opportunities for tikkun olam.

I learned above all that giving tzedakah needs to come from the heart. As long as it’s sincere and
meaningful, and as long as it’s helping others to live and survive, it counts.
Some years, I’d set aside clothes that wouldn’t fit and drop them off at a
resale shop. A couple of years ago, rather than giving gift cards or writing
checks to friends and family, I began to plant trees in Israel and give them as
gifts.

While I shared these experiences with my students, I couldn’t
help but think to myself that, while these were thoughtful and meaningful ways
to give to charity and to help out those in need, was I being complacent? Was
I, according to Maimonides, taking the easy way out and choosing a lesser
degree of tzedakah than I was capable
of doing? Was I capable of doing more?

According to Maimonides, the highest degree “is that of a person
who assists a poor person...by putting him where he can dispense with other
people’s aid ... [to] strengthen him in such a manner that his falling into
want is prevented.”

This was difficult for many of the students to understand, so I
told them a true story that another teacher recently shared with me so they
could understand, and even imagine and visualize themselves performing this act
of kindness themselves.

A man was wrongfully jailed for being in the wrong place at the
wrong time, hanging out with some shady people one moment and charged with
murder the next (get
the full story on WBEZ). Eventually, after three years of legal battles and
pro bono work from generous lawyers, a jury found him not guilty and he was
acquitted. I explained to the students that they lawyers saw through the
financial expense they were poised to endure and decided that helping a
wrongfully accused stranger get out of prison – a place this man never imagined
he’d go or even belong in – was the right thing to do. They saw an opportunity
to give without expecting anything in return, to free an innocent man so he could
go on living his life.

After I finished the story, the students barraged me with
questions. Of course, many of us don’t get the experience or opportunity to
perform this very high degree of tzedakah,
so it generated lots of inquiry. What
came over these lawyers that motivated them to provide this ultimate act of
kindness? Did they have any expectations that he would pay them back in some
way? Did the man have to promise to be good and stay away from bad people or
bad things? Did they ever catch the real bad guys, and were they punished?

It turns out that this innocent man is now enrolled in college
and fixing computers for a living, and the lawyers who sacrificed their time
and energy to help a complete stranger for 10 long years still keep in touch
with him on a regular basis.

So this season, and for the future, I encourage everyone to find
their own path of tzedakah, to
embrace the culture of giving freely and selflessly, and to pay it forward in
whatever way works for you. The sixth graders taught me that it’s never too
soon or too late to start giving, and to give thoughtfully and meaningfully.

Anyone else out there a
foodie? Food is a great metaphor for relationships. If a person gets in
the habit of eating cakes, cookies, and candy for breakfast, lunch, and dinner,
it will be very difficult for that person to create a new reality of healthy eating.

Relationships are no
different. If a person is dating in an unhealthy way, having “fast-food
relationships,” then when it comes time to be in a healthy relationship, they
will have created deeply entrenched negative patterns that are difficult to break.
Just like eating healthfully requires knowing the rules of nutrition, so too,
we need some guidelines for developing “healthy” relationships.

Dr. Sue Johnson, world-renowned
relationships expert (and one of my personal mentors), ascribes three pillars to
a healthy relationship. Let’s examine those three factors and then look at how
Judaism approaches the establishment of a healthy relationship.

Factor #1 – Accessibility

This refers to the ability
to connect emotionally with one’s partner even when it’s
uncomfortable. Even when I feel insecure in this relationship, I will stay
open and accessible to work through it together with you. Guess
what? There will be times when the marriage feels uncomfortable. And you
will have to apply good ol’ stick-to-it-ism and be there for your partner
through the tough and challenging times too. But in the online dating world of
several dates with several different people already set up for the week, if the
date goes sour for a minute, the relationship is dropped. Hey, wait a minute! Where
are you going? Don’t click off this blog yet! Hey … wait … Exactly.

Factor #2 – Responsiveness

This means that a partner
is able to hear, understand, and respond on an emotional level to the needs of
their significant other. Deep within all of us, we carry fears,
loneliness, insecurity, and a need to be loved and cared for. Can you give
me what I need? Can you enter my world, different from your world, see my
needs, and provide them for me? Our generation struggles in the realm of
relating to another person. One of the number one challenges of today’s
technologically advanced communications world is the lack of eye contact. I
do not really see you. Through emails, messaging, and texting, we dull the
muscles needed to reach out and see what’s really going on inside of another
person. Those skills are needed to create and deepen a healthy
relationship.

Factor #3 – Engagement

A relationship that is
engaged is a relationship in which both partners feel special to the
other. It is where both share a special place in their heart for each
other, willing and wanting to give a unique place in their lives for time, space,
and attention to the other. It’s kind of like going to the movies with someone,
but there’s no movie. Instead, all the anticipation and attention is given
specially to your partner. Painful to many, this means turning off one’s
phone figuratively, or sometimes when unable to fight that “gotta-answer-it’
reflex,” – literally. This will allow a couple to feel important to one another
– a key ingredient in a successful relationship.

Sue Johnson created an
acronym to remember these three relationship pillars: ARE. “ARE you there for
me? ARE you with me?” Accessiblility, Responsiveness, and Engagement are the
three factors that support a healthy thriving relationship.

The first step in
establishing an ARE relationship is to see the other. You have to be able
to see outside of yourself. There has to be the ability to acknowledge another
person with potentially a completely different paradigm and experience of life.
Second comes listening. This means listening intently to what’s going on inside
the world of the other and caring. It means focusing intently and
earnestly to each other’s deep vulnerable feelings. The third step is to
connect. In this deep vulnerable place of sharing and understanding each other,
connecting means to feel safe and secure, understood, and accepted. Finally,
the goal is to reach a place of profound appreciation of each other and the
precious relationship you share together.

These four steps: Seeing,
Hearing, Connecting, and then Appreciating are actually alluded to in the first
four names of the tribes of Israel: Reuben, Simon, Levi, and Judah. Reuben
comes from the Hebrew word reiyah
to see. Simon, or Shimon in
Hebrew, comes from the word shemiya,
to hear. Levi comes from the word leviya,
to attach or connect. And Judah comes from the Hebrew word hoda’ah, to give thanks or appreciate.

When a husband can see
what his wife is experiencing and listen to her share her feelings about it,
he’s being Accessible. If he can then take that in and connect with her in
that deep vulnerable place, he’s being Responsive. And when he then shows her
how much he appreciates her for who she is at the core, how much he enjoys her
sharing and being a part of his life, that is true Engagement. And it’s
the same from her to him. These four steps: Seeing, Hearing, Connecting,
and Appreciating are what construct an A.R.E. relationship of Accessibility,
Responsiveness, and Engagement.

My mom always made a big deal about Chanukah, and she instilled in our family a love for the holiday, too.

I know, I know. Chanukah's considered a "minor" holiday on the Jewish calendar, just trying to keep up with the commercialism of a Christmas culture that has us hearing the Mariah Carey Christmas song in our sleep for two months straight.

But in our house, Chanukah was a major holiday. We'd deck the place out in blue, gold, and silver metallic Chanukah décor worn from years of usage. The smell of frying latkes would waft through the house, we'd play dreidel for pennies, and exchange eight token gifts like Huey Lewis cassettes and Hypercolor T-shirts—ah the 1980s. But it wasn't about the gifts.

The centerpiece of the holiday in my home was lighting the Chanukiah (menorah). No matter what each family member was doing on those eight nights, we'd drop everything to go light the candles together.

I loved the special blessing we sing, and the smell of the Chanukah candles—a different tune and aroma than at our weekly Shabbat celebrations. I loved the glow of the lights in the window that passersby would see. And I loved to watch the colored wax melt down into abstract art until the final cinder would burn out, all in a matter of minutes.

We loved Chanukah so much that my mother even wrote a song about it, dedicated to my sister and me, called "The Maydel with the Dreidel." I've been singing that song eight nights a year since I was barely old enough to talk.

What resonates for us is that Chanukah celebrates not losing our Judaism to the larger culture—then and now. We're told that back in the days of the Maccabees, the oil lasted eight nights. And all these years later, through all the darkness—the peril, persecution, and turmoil—the Jewish people are still burning bright.

When we watch the news today, it's hard not to be overwhelmed by the poison: the evil of ISIS, Hamas rocket attacks, reports of anti-Semitism abroad and on our own college campuses, and the sale of swastika rings.

Yet, we've never let the dark extinguish the light, and we never will. In fact, our light—the light of the Jewish people—shines brighter than ever. That's the real miracle of Chanukah.

One
of the best things about traditions is that they stay the
same. This familiarity brings comfort and nostalgia. But even a holiday that’s
thousands of years old – or maybe especially such a holiday – needs some new
ideas every now and then so it doesn’t get stale.

Since
eight is the official number of Chanukah, here are eight ways to re-brighten
your Festival of Lights:

1. New candles

Sure,
the birthday cake-type ones are easy to get, but there are so many really
pretty ones out there that burn much longer and don’t cost that much more. Some
are beeswax. These are a bit pricey,
but just look at ’em:

2. New menorahs

There
is nothing wrong with – and even something heartwarming about – using a
traditional style of menorah. But artists today have had a ton of fun with styles, shapes, and themes. And what better Chanukah
present to give than something you get to use for Chanukah right away? I mean,
there is probably a cat person in your life who needs this:

3.New latkes

Since
the miracle was about the oil – and since the Maccabees had never seen a potato
in their lives – it kinda doesn’t matter what you fry in your festive fritters.
Sweet potatoes, yams, squash, carrots, zuccini, peas… there are allsorts of ideas. Also, you can use them as the base for dozens of toppings.

4.New desserts

The
frying fun doesn’t have to stop with the meal. Aside from traditional
Sephardic/Israeli sufganiot (jelly
donuts on steroids), there are all sorts of fried desserts: fritters, zalabia, churros … deep fried delights from
bananas to Oreos to ice cream. Dial the first two
digits of 911 before indulging, though.

5. New gift-giving
traditions

The
“eighth gift” is a great idea for kids. Instead of eight gifts, they get seven,
and the eighth gift is the one they shop for specifically to donate to a kid in
need. It’s a great way to introduce the idea of tzedakah to small kids and remember the less fortunate in the midst
of your celebration.

6. New music

There
is ton of great Jewish music beyond the (uggh) Dreidel Song and Adam Sandler. Some of
my favorite Chanukah albums are listed here… and they don’t stop at
klezmer. They range from alt-rock to reggae to … Woody Guthrie. (His wife was
Jewish, and so were his kids, so he wrote them great Chanukah songs, because he was Woody Guthrie.)

7. New dreidel games

Have
you ever spun a dreidel upside down? Played Bey Blade-style demolition-dreidel bout with them?
Held contests to see how many you could keep going at once, or who could spin
theirs the longest? Dipped them in (washable) paint and spun them on paper?
Since dreidels are a mash-up of spinners and dice, you can use them instead for
games like Parcheesi. Challenge the kids at your Chanukah get-togethers to get
creative! Oh, and for the grown-ups, No Limit Texas Dreidel.

8. New “Chanukah.”

This
year, resolve to spell the holiday’s name the
way Judah the Maccabee, one of the Chashmona’im intended – with a “Ch” and
not just an “H” – and learn how to chh. We have two letters in the Hebrew alphabet that
make the sound, and speaking Yiddish takes chutzpah,
too. You chh when you eat challah or charoset or chrain… you
use it when you see a choson under a chuppah at a chasanah… or when you tell your chaver
the chazan you like his chai necklace.

Enjoy
working some, or all, of these ideas into your Chanukah this year … and Chag same’ach! (There it is again!)

I
realized something the other day: I cannot remember the last time I felt bored.

It’s
often said that “only boring people get bored.” Maybe that’s true, but maybe
not. Quite possibly, being bored has nothing to do with being boring and
everything to do with being busy. Whatever the case may be, I haven’t felt
bored and I’ve most certainly felt busy, personally, professionally and
mentally for quite some time now.

When
I was younger, I always wanted to be busy. I was never really a
“me time” person. Although most people who know me would’ve (hopefully) never
really noticed that I yearned to constantly be occupied, I felt uneasy when
certain things were unplanned and if I didn’t have something to look forward to
each week.

Now,
some of the things I look forward to the most are the nights where I can take a
break, turn off my computer, relax on my couch, and decompress. If you would’ve
told me a year ago that I would be thrilled to spend a Saturday night on my
couch watching the Bulls and eating Pad Thai straight from the container, I
would’ve told you that you’re losing it. However, nowadays, few things sound
that ideal, which is most definitely part of growing up.

Weekends
are essential for me now, but not in the way they used to be. Gone are the days
of going out every night and getting minimal sleep only to binge on caffeine in
order to get through the next week. Of course, I am still binging on caffeine,
but now it’s more so because of insomnia and an inability to sleep in. Oh,
“adulthood” … My free time is now so much more important because it’s much
needed time to regroup and revamp.

I
sat on my couch for a few minutes before starting to write this as I thought
about my to-do list when all I really wanted to do was close my eyes and take a
nap. My upcoming responsibilities ranged from urgent matters to trivial things
and projects that should’ve been done months ago, but were somehow put on
the back burner:

1. Write this post

2. Wash my hair

3. Clean the bathroom

4. Put away my laundry

5. Finish the things I didn’t finish at the
office today

6. Make a birthday picstitch

7. Actually go grocery shopping

8. Actually cook things with the food that I
purchase

9. Call my friends who I owe a call

10. Hang up the pictures that have been
sitting on my window sill for almost two years

11. Build my shelf

12. Clean the kitchen

13. Sort the mail

14. Grade papers

15. Paint my nails

16. Stop making a to do list and actually
write this post

Go
ahead and laugh because the things I have to do aren’t actual
responsibilities in the grand scheme of things. Sure, they are all important in
some sense, but they are also such “20-something problems.” It’s not like I
have to raise a child or buy a house or even cook anyone dinner (besides myself).
I truly just need to do the day-to-day things to take care of myself and
somehow it’s more exhausting than anyone would ever think.

So,
as I string together a bunch of jumbled thoughts while snuggled under a cozy
blanket on a winter night in Chicago, I can assure you of a few things: there’s
always something you can be doing, never a reason to be bored, yet always a
reason to give yourself some must needed rest and relaxation. Some things can
wait until tomorrow. I know I often need to take my own advice, but at least I
now have checked one thing off my to-do list.

There is no shortage of bad training advice online. I see it all the
time: some writer jots down the best moves for torching fat and one of those
moves is a bicep curl. I’m not against the bicep curl, but the bicep is a small
muscle, and if you’re only listing the four “best” moves, I would not include
the bicep curl.

Like selecting a trainer, you need to be picky with what advice you
follow online. Many of the self-proclaimed experts are excellent writers, but
not trainers. Distinguishing between good and bad advice can be tricky; I’ve
been fooled a few times. The best advice I can offer you? Check the source. Review
their background, other articles they’ve written, and when all else fails – ask
a trainer friend.

A few of my favorite resources are listed below. I want to warn you,
however: I do not agree with 100 percent of what they say. These guys are
pretty hardcore. When I steal ideas from them, I usually adapt the workout to make
it easier.

Ben Greenfield - I listen
to his podcast because it’s entertaining and his advice is really interesting.
I will never follow all his suggestions because many ideas, such as buying a squatty
potty and bathing in a cold lake, are a little too out there, even for me. I do
though enjoy learning about the benefits of bone broth and cold showers,
however. http://www.bengreenfieldfitness.com

Eric Cressey - I
receive Eric’s email newsletter. I also have a few of his videos. I like his
approach to an active warm up. I also like how he analyzes exercises. If you
are interested in seeing examples of how to warm up and other functional
exercises, check out his site http://www.ericcressey.com and look
at his videos.

Mike Boyle - I’ve
seen Mike speak a few times and really like his approach, he’s a straight
shooter. He says from experience what has and has not worked. He trains hockey
and baseball players. He worked with the Boston Red Sox when they recently won
the World Series. He then promptly quit because he missed training his “kids.”
The best way to check him out is through his podcast, called the Strength Coach
Podcast. There is also a lot of
information available on his site: http://www.bodybyboyle.com

Gray Institute - The
sound quality of their workout DVDs might not be the best, but it’s a great
workout that gets you moving in a lot of directions. I’ve taken classes and
purchased videos from the Gray Institute. The workout videos have great
content, the technical videos for trainers are very technical: http://www.grayinstitute.com

Dave Schmitz - I
saved the best for last. Dave, a.k.a. “the band man,” has an amazing video
library collection on YouTube. All the above listed names also have video
channels. What’s different about Dave, however, is all his workouts are with
bands you can get on his site. The workouts are easy to follow and fun. I
started watching them for my bootcamps, but all of my home workouts include
band work. Check it out: http://resistancebandtraining.com

I want Chanukah this year to be a WOW! I am potato-ed out and frankly the thought of another sweet potato latke is as about as exciting as last year's Thanksgivukkah. HO-HUM!

I want a crunchy, crispy, and elegant Chanukah. Sure, I love latkes and apple sauce. I am crazy for sufganiyot. But this year, I want stylish food for my Chanukah gathering.

I am thinking of beautiful plates of golden-brown, fried delicious root vegetable ribbons, and cups of flavorful dips and sauces and sauces and all sorts of goodies waiting to be sampled.

Don't fret and worry your pretty little head that crispy fried treats are a kitchen nightmare and a Gordon Ramsey fright scene in your own home. My Chanukah party requires few tools, few ingredients and allows you, the host, to attend your own soiree.

The menu I have designed can be a part of larger party and these items used as starters or these items can be served as a casual or elegant cocktail party.

This year I am doing simple peeled root vegetables fried to a golden brown, finger licking green beans coated in delicate tempura batter, and-for dessert—I have golden fried fritters with the jelly on the outside! Skip the gooey pastry bags and drippy countertop. These fritters are a snap to prepare.

Root vegetable chips with spicy smoked salmon and wasabi mayo

1 medium carrot, sliced about 1/8 of an inch thick (I use a vegetable peeler to yield thin delicate ribbons) 1 large parsnip, peeled and sliced about 1/8 of an inch thick (I use a vegetable peeler to yield thin delicate ribbons) Several large Jerusalem artichokes,* peeled and sliced about 1/8 of an inch thick (I use a vegetable peeler to yield thin delicate ribbons) 1 medium yucca, peeled and sliced about 1/8 of an inch thick (I use a vegetable peeler to yield thin delicate ribbons) 2-3 cups canola oil Sea salt and freshly cracked pepper

1. Heat the oil in a medium saucepan until it is 350 degrees. Line a jelly roll pan with paper towels or a brown paper bag will also absorb the oil.

2. Fry the vegetable chops/ribbons, in batches, until they are crispy and brown, about 1-2 minutes per batch.

3. Transfer the fried veggies to the lined pan and sprinkle with sea salt and pepper. Continue until all veggies are crispy.

4. The vegetable chips can be fried up to 1 day ahead and can be stored, once cool, covered at room temperature.

*The name Jerusalem artichoke is actually a misnomer. These bumpy tubers have nothing to do with Jerusalem, nor are they a member of the artichoke family. In fact, they are actually the root of the sunflower plant, which is why they are also known as sunchokes. They have a nutty, earthy flavor similar to an artichoke. Jerusalem Artichokes are in season twice a year, in the late spring and again in the fall.

1. Fill a large bowl with ice and a small amount of water in it. Place a smaller bowl in the ice water and whisk together the tempura batter.

2. Heat a medium sauté pan with 1 inch of extra virgin olive oil in it over medium high heat.

3. Dip the beans into the batter and allow the excess batter to drip off. When the oil is at 350 degrees, gently place the dipped beans into the batter and fry it until it is crispy and golden brown (about 1-2 minutes). Turn the beans and fry the other side. Transfer the beans to a paper towel lined baking sheet.

4. Sprinkle with salt and serve.

Sesame, ginger-soy dipping sauce

This is a great all-purpose dipping sauce for any Asian delicacies. The sauce can be stored in the refrigerator for up to5 days.

1. Whisk all the ingredients for the sauce together and garnish with scallions and chili rings

Fritters with cranberry conserve

These fritters are a snap. There is no dough to make or roll out. I use a simple and rich chocolate pound cake that is sliced, fried to a golden brown and served with tart and ruby-red cranberry conserve. Delish!

1. Lightly grease a loaf pan with canola oil and then dust it with cocoa powder.

2. Whisk the dry ingredients together in a large mixing bowl. Set aside

3. Mix the chocolate, eggs, coffee, brown sugar and vanilla together in a small mixing bowl.

4. Mix the wet ingredients into the dry ingredients. Be careful not to over-mix or the cake will be tough. Pour the batter into the prepared loaf pan and bake in a preheated oven for 50-60 minutes until a toothpick can be inserted and will have moist crumbs on it.

5. Place the cake pan on a cooling rack and allow to cool for 1 hour. Run a knife around the edge of the cake and unmold onto a plate.

For the fritters

1 pound cake2 cups canola oil½ cup Powdered sugar

1. Cut the cake into 2-3 inch cubes and set aside.

2. Heat a small saucepan with the oil.

3. Once the oil has reached 350 degree, add the cubes, a few at a time and fry until crispy and dark brown on each side.

4. Transfer the cake to a plate lined with paper towels. Dust with powdered sugar and serve.

The baseball season might be long over, but the excitement is just
beginning. While the White Sox and Cubs have made some really solid moves so
far (Zack Duke and Adam LaRoche are coming to the South Side, while manager Joe
Madden heads to the Cubs), Jewish ballplayers have been on the move as well.

Kevin Youkilis - After a year in Japan, Youkilis has announced his
retirement. While he probably will not see the Hall of Fame, Youkilis had a
very productive career, mainly for the Boston Red Sox. It will be nice seeing
him on the ballot in five years.

Josh Zeid - After showing promise with the Houston Astros and then
struggling through an injury, Zeid is on his way to join Jewish manager Brad
Ausmus and second baseman Ian Kinsler in Detroit. This is a very solid move for
the Tigers, who need some young pitching in their bullpen.

Ike Davis - After breaking out of the Minors as a solid player, Davis has
hit some bumps in the road over the last few years. The Pirates sent him to the
minors, then quickly traded him to the Oakland A's.

Gabe Kapler - The former MLBer will take over the Dodgers’ farm system. He
was tapped by fellow MOT Andrew Friedman, who is the news President of Baseball
Operations.

Craig Breslow - The Red Sox have allowed the veteran lefty to test free
agency. The New York Mets have shown interest. He’s expected to sign with a
team soon.

Aaron Poreda - Poreda's Major League resurgence landed him with the
Texas Rangers, but he is taking his talents overseas and joining the Yomiuri
Giants.

Josh Satin – The Mets infielder, who struggled this season after a
strong rookie campaign in 2013, is staying in the National League, signing with
the Cincinnati Reds.

Stay tuned for more possible moves: With the A's signing Billy Butler, what
will that mean for Nate Freiman? Will Matt Kemp get traded to make room for Minor
League phenom Joc Pederson? Can Jason Marquis continue his comeback?